Lady Midnight
by seastar97
Summary: The war started it all. But he can't imagine it any other way. Emma Carstairs and Julian Blackthorn team up to investigate a demonic plot and discover the truth about Emma's parents. Join Emma and Julian as they find secrets in the past, and a forbidden love in the future.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi guise :) I was pretty disappointed when I found out that no one bothered writing anything with the EmmaxJulian pairing :( So I decided to write it myself! Cassadra Clare has invented this brilliant story called the Dark Artifices, which she has given us minimal details about, but that's all the better for my writing because there are so few restrictions. If you don't know about the Dark Artifices, go look it up. It's awesome. Anyway, here's my plan for this story: I want to do one flashback chapter, then a chapter in the present, then flashback, then present. Eventually, flashback will probably catch up to the present, assuming I continue on with this. I plan to for about... Well until I figure out if anyone likes the story.**

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Sunlight sparked off the building behind the Institute as they drove up. Julian Blackthorn used to think that the reflections would somehow detach themselves from their structures and land somewhere on a busy Los Angeles boulevard, crackling and flaring like gigantic firecrackers.

"Home sweet home, right kiddo?" Helen turned around and flashed a smile at her half-brother from the driver's seat, and allowing him to catch a glimpse of her pointed ear. She swerved over the meridian while doing so, causing several nervous drivers to lean on their horns. "Oh!" Helen giggled.

Julian remained unamused, digging his nails into his seat and gritting his teeth, ignoring the question. His sister, for whatever reason, was under the impression that she was actually a good driver. She was nothing compared to Julian's mother, who could parallel park with one hand on the wheel while three kids and a new born were screaming in her ears.  
He supposed a skill gained from growing up in LA, though Julian hoped it was genetic.

"Be careful, Helen." Mark, who was riding shotgun, was filling his regular role as backseat driver. Mark wasn't a much better at driving then Helen, but in Julian's opinion, he had some redeemable qualities, whereas Helen was nothing but an annoying, bossy airhead.

Mark turned his blue-green eyes on Julian as the car turned into the parking garage. The Institute was located somewhat in the city center, so the Blackthorns had the choice of leaving their cars out on the busy streets of LA, constantly at risk of fender benders, or parking their cars in a public garage, where the odds fender bender accidents were significantly decreased, but those of petty thievery were greatly increased.

"How was Aunt Grey's, kiddo?"

Jules shrugged. He hated bring called kiddo. Mark and Helen were the only ones who ever did, which served to Julian a reminder that they weren't really his siblings. Sure they shared the same eyes, name, and father, but their identically frizzy, curly, white-blonde revealed to the world that they were not full members of the family, which Julian hated. He loved Mark—and Helen, though he would never admit it out loud. But the faerie blood that that had inherited from their mother gave them some… quirks that were not fully accepted within the Clave.

"It was okay."

"Come on, Jules, it couldn't have been that bad," Helen said, piloting the car into its space and shutting off the motor. The engine sputtered out loudly. Julian cringed. The poor convertible had been in desperate need of a repair ever since Aline Penhallow had backed it into a curb a few months ago.

Helen climbed over the side of the car, not bothering with the door. Her long legs sailed through the air before her heels hit the pavement. She was graceful. He had to give her that.

Helen opened his door and slung her arm around his shoulders. "Tell us everything."

Julian heaved a deep, irritated sigh before saying, "Nothing happened. Just leave me alone, Helen."

"Guys." Mark was propped up against the side of the car, arms crossed, his expression solemn. "Mom wanted me to tell you something when we got here."

"Well, we're here," Helen pointed out, tapping her foot. The _click-click_ of her heel on the concrete echoed through the empty garage.

"Well, obviously the war's just ended. There are a lot of displaced Shadowhunters—children. And they need a place to stay."

Helen frowned, her light eyebrows furrowing. Mark scratched the back of his head, waiting for an answer. Julian saw a long scratch running from the back of his elbow all the way down to his wrist. A battle scar. Julian hated how he hadn't been able to fight in the War. They'd locked him up in his aunt's Idris house while the battle raged just outside the window.

Finally, Helen spoke. "Doesn't the Clave think we have enough children?"

"I do," Julian mumbled in agreement.

Mark sighed. "You know how it goes. The Institute isn't our _house_. We just _live_ there. Besides, it isn't all children, and they're not staying here forever. "

"It may not be our house, but it's our home," Helen argued. "I don't think the Clave should be allowed to force us to take in total strangers. They probably won't even like it here."

"I don't," Julian grunted.

"Is that all you can say?" Helen demanded. "I do. I don't. Me too. Me neither. Honestly, I don't understand you male adolescents sometimes."

Her brothers ignored her. "They're kids, Helen," Mark continued as if he'd never been interrupted. "Poor little defenseless children who lost their families in the War and have no place else to go."

"You could say the exact same thing about a baby tiger, you know. Sure, it's cute and cuddly, but it'll grow up to be a killer!"

"You're such a drama queen," Julian said, rolling his eyes again. "Why do you even care? You can just move out. You _should_ move out," he added, looking pointedly at Helen.

"Why are you so _sassy_?" she asked, flicking her hair over her shoulder. It bounced as she made her way toward the elevator.

"Put the top down, stupid," Julian snapped.

Helen tossed the keys over her shoulder without looking back. They hit their mark dead on. Julian howled, holding his eye.

"And I'm not holding the elevator!" she called.

"I'll get it," Mark said, retrieving the keys from where they had fallen on the ground.

"Can't she just lay off?" Julian complained. His eye stung. A black eye was in his near future, no doubt.

"I don' think she can," his brother replied with a smile. "This is Hel we're talking about."

Julian smirked. "Hel" was definitely a fitting name for his older sister.

"Let's go inside," Mark suggested.

"That's the last of them?" Julian asked. He and his sister were looking down on the streets of Los Angeles through an open library window on the sixth floor of the Institute. A charter but was headed toward the east end of town, full of Shadowhunters eager to go home to their respective homes.

"I think so," Olivia said. "I _hope_ so. It seems like they've been here forever."

Julian nodded in agreement. Three months had felt like an eternity. "Some kid went into my room yesterday with a seraph blade and _cut a hole in the floor_. I mean, seriously? I can see straight into the bathroom. It stinks."

Livvy laughed and closed the window. "Literally and figuaratively?"Of all of four of his sisters, she was Julian's favorite. Of course, one was a baby and the other spent most of her time downstairs in the playroom. Nonetheless, Livvy was much cooler than Helen. She was smart, and knew what to say _way_ more often than Julian did. "That might have been Tiberius."

Julian rolled his eyes. If it had been Livvy's twin, Tiberius had probably been trying to build something, like a laundry chute that ran from the attic all the way down the basement, so he would never have to take his clothes downstairs again. Tibs was always trying to construct things to make his life easier. He was strange that. Though they were twins, Livvy and Tibs looked nothing alike. Livvy and Julian were more often mistaken for twin because of their identical height. Tibs was almost two inches shorter than his brother and sister with black hair and grey eyes, opposed to the Blackthorn blue-green eyes and brown hair. He often said that he was glad that he looked like the outcast in the family—it would make it easier to disassociate from them once he was a famous Shadowhunter inventor, like Henry Branwell. Julian doubted that Tibs would ever invent something as useful as the Sensor.

Mark came into the library at that moment. He sighed. It was a mess, like every other place in the Institute. Certain Shadowhunters had decided to take respite here much longer than others. Unfortunately, they were messy. Many of the picture windows were smudged with fingerprints, and one of the skylights had gum stuck to it. The carpet had shoeprints and the furniture was torn and looked like it could have been possibly been chewed in some places. The large fireplace on the opposite side of the room, which was never used, due to the LA heat, had been lit a few times, and soot and ash were scattered on the hearth. "There you guys are. Come downstairs, Mom and Dad have something an announcement to make."

Julian blanched. "Not another baby?" That was definitely the last thing they needed.

Mark smiled. "Not exactly, kiddo."

Julian slid into his seat at the dining room table. Everyone else had already been seated. His mother's lips were moving soundlessly, her fingers ticking off each child. A mother of eight had to have some kind of roll call, and this was Penelope Blackthorn's. The dining room was the common place of the house, even more so than the living room or the den. All of the corridors and stairways in the house eventually led here, which Julian particularly liked, for it meant easy access at mealtimes.

Everyone else was chattering, but Julian's eyes fell on his father, who was coming in from the weapons room. Arthur Blackthorn was holding a seraph blade in one hand, and baby in his arms, Julian's younger sister Ari, as he often was. But that was not what caught his attention.

There was a girl trailing behind him. She looked to be about Julian's age. She wore a white shirt, pair of expensive-looking skinny jeans, and a frown on her face. She had blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders and pale, freckled skin. She obviously hadn't been in Los Angeles long enough to get a tan.

"Kids!" Penelope said. She was, as usual, completely ignored. Arthur came to a halt beside his wife and handed the baby off. The girl behind him yawned, her eyes carefully scanning the scene before her. Julian caught her gaze and held it for an awkward moment. Her eyes were blue, like the ocean. He got the strange feeling that he had seen them before.

Helen stood up. "Shut up!" she shouted. Her voice echoed, reverberating off the vaulted ceiling of the room. Everyone was silent. Helen sat back down, looking satisfied. She was finally putting her big mouth to good use, Julian thought. He kept his eyes on the girl. The rest of his family seemed just to have noticed her. She wriggled under their blue-green gazes.

"Kids," Penelope began again, "as you have probably noticed, the Institute is empty again. Thank the Angel. We were hoping that, once everything was put back in order in Idris, everyone here would be able to go home." His mother continued blabbing on about the casualties of the War, the warlocks and Valentine and the Circle and many other things that far surpassed many of her childrens' understanding. He saw that only Mark, Helen, and Olivia were actually listening. The rest of her speech was falling on deaf ears.

"Unfortunately," Penelope said, what felt like a half an hour later, "not every child is fortunate enough to have a family like ours. Had your father and I died in the War, Mark would have been able to take care of you kids. This is Emma Calliope Carstairs." Julian saw the girl stiffen at the mention of her middle name. He smiled a little. He would murder his mother if she told a complete stranger his middle name. "She has no family to take care of her. Emma these are my children, your family. Mark and Helen, my stepson and daughter; Julian Horatio, my oldest son."

"Mom!" Julian sank into his chair, his cheeks flaming.

Penelope shook her head. "It's a lovely name dear," she said, continuing the introductions. "This is Livia, my oldest daughter—"

"Uh, I go by Olivia or Livvy," Livvy quickly corrected.

"Tiberius is Livia's twin brother; and Drusilla, Octavian, and baby Ariadne are the youngest. Tell Emma how old you are, kids."

"Twelve," Julian muttered, among choruses of voices proclaiming ages up to twenty. He cursed his mother for picking the name "Horatio".

"This is your new family!" Penelope said, beaming a luminous grin in Emma's direction. She managed a tight smile. "I expect you all to be nice to Emma and treat her just as you treat each other. You can go now."

Eight children jumped up at once. The little ones went straight to the basement where the playroom was located. The others cautiously approached the girl.

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**The next chapter is going to be in the present, which Emma and Julian at the age of 17. PLEASE review! I will love you for like EVER!**

**-seastar**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey guys :) Now we're in the present tense! Okay, so this chapter is mostly banter, and is probably going to end up undergoing some serious editing in the future, but whatever. I was wanting to show the relationship between Emma and Julian, preface the whole "forbidden love" thing, and show the interactions between the Institute's "older" children. So yeah, hopefully I did that :) I also wanted to create an air of mystery, because there are a lot of things that are going to be explained in the flashback chapters, such as Emma's past. I've been dropping bits of it in there, and I know it doesn't make any sense now, but it will later. I don't think I put the disclaimer in the first chapter, so here it is:**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Dark Artifices, but I wish Cassandra Clare would just write it because I'm only writing this because she didn't :)  
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"So there was another attack in West Hollywood last night," Tibs said, sitting down beside Emma. He looked at her expectantly with those pretty grey eyes and dark lashes that she so envied. Tiberius Blackthorn, she always thought, was the epitome of "the odd one out". He was nothing like any of the rest of his family, not even his twin Livvy. And yet he was exactly like her.

In the library firelight, his eyes were particularly bright. Emma wrapped her arms around her legs and tucked them up in her recliner, balancing her mug of hot cocoa on her knees. The La-Z-Boy didn't really fit the older décor of the room, with its high windows, French doors, stained glass, and the otherwise dark wood furniture, but it reminded Emma of home.

The itchy scarf around her neck, however, did not remind of home, but it was necessary for warmth. A sudden cold snap had settled over the Los Angeles area about a week ago and was making itself comfortable. A girl from Arizona could never get used to the chill.

Tiberius fished a marshmallow out of Emma's cocoa. She smacked his hand, but his fingers were already in his mouth. "So? What say you, Carstairs?"  
"Nothing. Just that it's too cold for anything to be out on the streets right now. Man or beast."

"Consider me beast." The library doors parted, revealing a boy in a dark coat and mittens, a paper grocery bag under each arm.

"Back from the wild?" Emma asked. She put her cocoa on a side table and reached for one of the bags, peering at the content. "With graham crackers, I see."

Julian tugged off his hat, his brown hair ruffled. His blue-green eyes stood out against the black canvas of his clothing.

"This isn't the kitchen, you know," Tibs said, taking a bag from his brother.

"I know. I left everything else downstairs. Since we had the fire going, I thought we'd make s'mores."

"I almost forgot. Julian has to make s'mores wherever there's an open flame." Tibs rolled his eyes.

Emma laughed. "Remember when he roasted a marshmallow on the stove with a toothpick?"

"That wasn't one of my best moments," Julian admitted. He was probably recalling drenching the entire Institute by setting off the smoke alarms.

Emma grinned at her parabatai, pulling him into a hug. The top of her head just grazed his chin, but she liked that. Julian, at six-two, was constantly getting things off of high shelves for her. Emma was about five-nine, but no one ever really noticed that. What she lacked in height, she made up in attitude. Or so she was told.

"Did you get the eggs?" she asked him.

Julian stiffened in her arms. "Um..."

"Kidding." She pulled away and punched his shoulder, giggling. He was always forgetting stuff at the grocery store. It was probably just a teenage boy thing.

"Alright, silly," Julian rumpled Emma's hair. "And just for the record, I _did_ get eggs."

Where Emma and Tiberius were so much alike, she and her parabatai were polar opposites. She was left-handed, he was right-handed. She was always foraging ahead, while Jules was always nervously watching his back. She was a genius and he was... Not. But that was Emma's opinion.  
That was why they worked so well together. They were like peanut butter and jam- different, but they complimented each other. At any rate, there was only one thing that they really needed to have in common: they both loved each other, dearly.

"Before you two started making googly-eyes at each other," Tibs interrupted, "I was telling Em about the demon attacks. What do you think, Jules?"  
Julian shed his mittens and coat, squatting down in front of the fire. "I think it's too cold for anything to be out in this weather. And I don't like it when you say "googly-eyes.""

"Oh, come on, Jules, it's not like the consul's here or anything." Emma returned to her seat and her cup, which had significantly less marshmallows than when she had risen. "Lighten up." It seemed that, even within his family, Julian never took jokes from anyone but Emma.

"And you two _were_ making googly-eyes at each other," Tibs said.

"Moving on," Jules said pointedly. Emma doubted he had been making googly-eyes at her- she would have noticed. His eyes had crinkled at the corners when he smiled at her, but then, so had hers. They always did whenever they looked into his beautiful eyes...

Emma's cocoa churned in her stomach like water would in a washing machine on spin cycle. No. Julian was cute- super-cute- and she loved him, more than anything. But not like that. That super-cuteness was for some other girl. Unfortunately.

Emma secretly despised the parabatai pair rules. The "wither thou goest, I will go" stuff was fine, except for the death part, and the "ought but death part thee and me" part was true of her and Julian. But whoever decided that a boy and girl pairing couldn't result in a romantic relationship had obviously never read any novels.

She had posed the question many times: Why couldn't she and Julian be together (hypothetically, of course)? Apparently it was forbidden by Covenant law. Shadowhunters were bound to protect those around them. When one is focused on saving their beloved, said person may take unnecessary risks, therefore putting oneself in danger. But paired Shadowhunters required by law to jump in front of flaming arrows for their partners, if need be. Emma would gladly take an arrow for Julian, whether they were in a romantic relationship or not.

There were so many implications, loopholes, and irrelevant details in the Covenant these days. This was the age of the iPhone, Macbooks, and all those other expensive Apple gadgets. The age of new life. Shadowhunting had changed since those laws had been written. It was time for the Clave to change, too.  
"Tibs is right," Julian was saying. "You up for that, Em?"  
Emma hadn't even realized that the brothers had been conversing. "Huh? Oh yeah, sure. Definitely."  
"Get your gear then, and tell Tina to get hers. Be ready and downstairs in an hour." Apparently forgetting the s'mores for the time being, Julian fled the room, shouting, "Livvy!"  
"You seem a little bit spacey," Tiberius observed. "You sure you're up for hunting?"  
"What's that supposed mean? Aren't I always up for demon slaying?"  
Tibs shrugged. "Just checking."

Emma pulled her hair back and twisted it up into a sloppy bun. She despised herself for being so bloodthirsty. Not even the freezing weather could keep her away from demons for long.  
"You look bloated," Tina Delgado, Emma's best friend noted.  
"I drank too much hot chocolate," Emma said dryly. She has stuffed her gear on over her heaviest winter coat.  
"That coat will seriously limit your mobility." Tina always had the technical end of things. "I'd take it off. Julian is going to have a hard time defending a blob."

"Julian can defend anything. Besides, it's cold."

"It's 55, Emma. All I'm saying is…"

"Don't make me the tell The Story again," Emma threatened.

Tina held her hands up. "Alright, fine. If you die, you can't say I didn't tell you so."

"We all know Emma Carstairs would rather die than take order."

Emma looked to the hallway, which was visible thought the open door. Livvy was leaning against the doorjamb in all her brown-haired glory. Emma's various dye-job attempts had left her with less than satisfactory imitations of Livvy's color.

Emma stuck her tongue out at both girls. Livvy came and sat on the bed. "Jules is going to throw a fit when he sees you in that, you know. Emma, you can't fight in that thing."

"You don't want to hear The Story, do you?"

"I know the story," Livvy snapped, "nobody cares that you killed a demon with your bear hands. That's what you did, right?"

"No," Emma answered, wondering, after retelling it so many times, if Livvy really did know the story.

"Then don't act like you did!"

That stung Emma's pride. "I killed a Shax demon without the use of my arms or legs," she began as punishment. "It was a dark and stormy night..."  
The other two girls knew that once Emma had started The Story, there was no stopping her. Tina growled and shot Livvy a venom look that Emma was glad was not directed at herself.

"Girls!" Julian shouted from the kitchen.

"We're ready!" Livvy called, rocketing out of the room with Tina on her heels.

By the time Emma reached the bottom step, she was almost finished tell The Story. "And so the faithful parabatai carried the brave, beautiful, chivalrous, cunning, Shadowhunter back home, and they lived happily ever after."

"That list of adjectives gets longer every time you tell it, Emma," Tibs said.

"Whatever."

"Was that based on a true story?" Tina asked.

"It _was_ a true story," Emma replied. "You think I'd make that up?" Parts of The Story may have been embellished, the drama more or less manipulated, given the situation at hand, but the gist of it was clear:

"I'm the best Shadowhunter of all time."

Everyone laughed. "Good one, Em." Jules winked in her direction. Emma treated him to a sour look.

"Where's everyone off to?" Penelope entered the dining room through the kitchen, an apron around her waist and a wooden spoon in her hand.

"Nowhere," Julian said quickly. "We were just… going back to the grocery store again." The stern look on his face dared anyone to contradict him.

His mother narrowed her eyes. "All of you are going to the store? In gear? What are you doing, robbing it?"

Emma nodded. Tina elbowed her in the ribs. "Well, put your coats on, at least." Mrs. Blackthorn started back to the kitchen. "And be home by eight. I don't want you to miss dinner."

The teenagers breathed sighs of relief, thanking the Angel for Penelope's ignorance. Being half mundane, she hadn't joined the Clave until she was 20—after which had met Arthur, promptly married him, and had Julian. Never any time for training, and not much for studying, not with two stepchildren and six of your own.

"Let's get out of here before we run into anyone else," Livvy suggested. Emma agreed with her. In the Los Angeles Institute, the longer one stuck around, the more the inevitability of meeting somebody increased.

Emma was the first to charge out the door. The air was freezing and frigid, as she had expected. A chill ran through her body. Julian was behind her. In the relief of the streetlamps, she could see that his nose was already pink from exposure.

"Where to?" he asked, assuming Emma knew. She only shrugged.

Livvy pulled the sensor out of her pocket. "Was out in the West end earlier. This thing was beeping like crazy. I say we start there."

"Why hasn't anyone invented the Shadowhunter mobile?" Tina wondered through chattering teeth. "Or better yet, why couldn't we take the car?"

"Dad would know something was up if we took the car," Juliann pointed out. "And we don't usually go to the demons—they come to us."

"I don't see why we couldn't wait for them to that," Tina muttered. "The Clave is supposed to take care of these kinds of things."

"The Clave isn't interested in finding out what happened to Emma's parents," Julian reminded her.

"If you aren't either, you can go back home." The subject of her parents was a rather touchy one for Emma. They hadn't been official members of the Clave, because they had lived in isolation for so long. Heather and Cole Carstairs didn't even exist as far as the Clave was concerned. They had dallied far too often in the Downworld.

As strange as it seemed, demons were the only connection Emma had with her parents. She knew they had studied their realms and ranks for years. She was certain that they could provide her with a clue to what had happened to them.

Because she was sure they weren't dead. Vanished into the folds of another dimension, undercover in some exotic place like Bolivia, but not dead. She knew that they were coming back for her.

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**That's it. It was really random. I don't think I'm going to write about them like fighting the demons or whatever, because I'm really bad at battle scenes. The next future chapter is going to have the results of their battle. And the next past chapter I already have planned out, so... yeah it's going to be packed with info to clear somethings up. REVIEW please! I was so happy, I wasn't really expecting much because this is the only DA story that I know of so far, but I actually got some. So thanks you guys!**

**-seastar**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey guys :) I know it's been forever since I've updated, but I'm really excited about this chapter. I wrote it really fast. I was feeling really inspired for some reason. Idk. Anyway, Emma and Julian talk, and we find out a little bit more. I might write another past chapter because I am really excited. I think I started out really good, but it kind of deteriorated the end a little. Oh well. I can always revise. Anyways, I'm proud of myself.  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Cassandra Clare's crap**

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Julian lay in his bed, leaning his head against the wall again, hearing nothing but the hum of the electrical wirings running through them. He'd actually been filled with dread when his parents had put Emma in the room adjacent to his. Admittedly, he'd expected her to come with more baggage- and some maximum volume punk-rock music.

But she'd been nothing but silent in the past month. Julian had only ever even heard her sniffling, probably into her pillow, once.

Maybe that was normal orphan behavior, though. Julian eyed his computer, wondering of Google would give him any answers. He doubted it. There was a book perched on the edge of the desk, one he'd just been reading, hence the glasses on his nose, smuggled from a stack that his mother had bought- about adopting children and detachment disorders. But I wasn't like they'd adopted Emma; whether or not she was even staying forever was up for debate.

And it at any rate, Julian didn't think Emma was detached. Just quiet. She showed up for meals. She answered all of their questions. She didn't make dirty looks at anyone, or flip them off behind their backs like troubled children did- as far as he knew, anyway.

Still, she was strange in a way that was hard for him to put his finger on. Not in the way Tiberius was strange- there was nothing to mistaken about his brother's unusual behavior. Maybe it was the way she never went anywhere of her own accord except her room or the bathroom down the hall, or the fact that she never initiated conversation, or seemed to want to know anything about the Blackthorn family. Whatever it was, Emma was mysterious, shrouded, as if by a deep, dark cloud of secret.

Or maybe just a light cloud of secret, one that she wasn't yet ready to disperse. It was impossible to tell, and that wore on Julian, almost rubbed his nerves raw, whenever he was around her. He couldn't stand secrets.

His mother wanted Julian to be the one to get to know her, being that they were so close to the same age- 83 days apart, a daily dinner-table interrogation had uncovered. It gave Julian a little bit of satisfaction to know that he was her senior: He had been born on February 7th, Emma on May 1st. There had been a debate over whether Livvy was closer to Emma's age (Julian had insisted). Turned out that the twins were 311 days younger than Emma, sticking Julian with the task of getting closer to her.

So far he'd been failing miserably. He'd thought of ways to find common ground in his head, but he could never find the right time or place to approach Emma. It wasn't like he could barge into her room, or even knock on the door, sit down on her bed, and start asking her about her favorite pastimes or books. And he definitely couldn't while she was in the bathroom.

Jules' mother did not seem to understand becoming friends was a two-sided operation. Every night she'd ask him what he'd found out about Emma, and he would give her the same answer every time: Nothing. As if he'd report that kind of information to her anyhow.

Julian rolled off his bed, avoiding the hole in the floor. Through it, he could hear his parents arguing about something—their room was right off the bathroom. He caught a few snatches, and a name: Emma. He knew what this fight was about. She wasn't connecting with them, she wasn't doing this or that. They hadn't given her much a chance.

In truth, it hurt a little that Emma wasn't trying to make any kind of connection with the family. But he had to put himself in Emma shoes. Julian was a quiet kid too- the quietest in the family. He couldn't even imagine being ripped away from his brothers and sisters, his parents, and transplanted into a new place, expected to find normalcy.

He wondered, not for the first time, what she thought about them. It would be so much easier if he could simply read her thoughts. He wondered if she liked them and the Institute. He wondered if she missed her parents. And above all, he wondered if she wanted to stay.

Because he wanted her to stay. He wanted to know what it would be like to wake up to the sound of her voice with the others down in the kitchen, loud over the din of clattering breakfast plates and bowls. He wanted to think of her as his sister, like Livvy and Helen.

Somehow, it felt out of reach, though. He could taste it, imagine it in a foreign way, but right now, it seemed impossible.

Just as Jules grasped his doorknob, it turned under his hand and the door flew open, hitting him in the face, knocking the reading glasses askew. He righted them before they slipped off of his nose. "What the-?"

"Shhh!" Drusilla was hanging on his leg, pulling him off balance. "We're playing hide and seek!"

"Get out of my room!" Julian said, ignoring his sister's plea to stay silent rather than heeding it.

"She's after me!"

"Emma?" Jules asked hopefully.

Silla looked at him strangely. "She's in her room."

"Oh." He didn't know why he'd thought it. Helen was more likely to actually come out of her room and play with the kids than Emma. He'd just hoped...

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get out of here," Julian said, snapping back to his senses.

"Jules!" Silla protested.

He pushed her out of the room and into the upstairs corridor. To her credit, she didn't make any noise, just looked up at her brother with her big blue-green doe eyes.

The door to Emma's room swung open. Jules' hand dropped from Silla's shoulder instantly when he saw the room occupant stand behind the threshold. He stared.

Silla bolted through the door. Emma appeared unphased by this, matching Julian's gaze steadily with her dark blue eyes, like two perfectly round sapphires. She looked expectant.

Julian vaguely recalled saying her name. "Did you want something...?" she trailed off.

"N-" Julian stopped himself. He couldn't say "no". He'd been waiting for an opportunity to talk to Emma for weeks. A way to close the gaping distance between her and the rest of the family, and a way to get his mom off his back.

"No," he decided, "my sister, she just wanted you to open your room door so she could hide." He pointed down the stairs. The hide and seek procession was now scaling them, racing up two steps at a time.

"Have you seen Silla?" Livvy asked, breathless. She smiles when her eyes landed on Emma.

Emma pointed down the hall, the barest hint of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "She went that way." Her voice was so soft; Julian almost wished she would yell, just so he could hear what she sounded like.

The kids raced down the hall, Tibs, and Tavvy following behind Livvy, who had obviously been the initial seeker.

Emma really was smiling now. "I never had anyone to play with," she said almost wistfully, looking down the hall.

"So you were an only child?" Jules asked. His mother had probably already asked the question, but he couldn't remember the answer.

"Yeah."

Jules nodded, unsure of what to say next. After a minute, Emma added, "I always wanted a brother."

"It's not all that it's cracked up to be," Julian assured her. "Younger or older? I have both, you're welcome to 'em." He didn't meet her eyes, but he could tell that she was looking straight at him.

"I always wanted a twin brother, actually," Emma admitted. "Or a brother like Mark, who's way older. Someone to watch over me." Really? Jules was always trying to get away from all the people who were watching him. Now he understood why Emma didn't mind their eyes on her at dinner.

"Well, you get that a lot around here," Julian told her. "Do you like it? I mean, us?" He ventured a glance at Emma, from the corner of his eye.

She nodded. "Yeah. It's nice. You all are."

Julian nodded. "I bet it doesn't compare to your own house."

"I lived in an apartment before, in Tucson. This place is amazing. But I keep thinking about my stuff..."

Jules was at a loss. After a long pause, he said, "Well, maybe you can get your stuff. Or we can get you new stuff."

"The shopping's great in Los Angeles, right?"

"Oh, I wouldn't know."

"Of all the places in the world, I got dropped in the city of stars." Emma sounded as though she still couldn't believe it.

"It probably wasn't worth your parents." Julian flushed, realizing he may have gone too far.

Emma didn't say anything. Her expression had gone from smiling to somber. Julian half expected her tov"Did your parents, uh, train you?"

"To do what?"

Julian smiled. He had his answer. "That's okay. We don't start until we're twelve anyway."

"Again, to do what?" Emma looked quizzical.

"You grew up knowing you were a Shadowhunter, right?" Julian questioned. Emma answered affirmatively so he asked another question: "Were you and your parents part of the Clave?"

"No," Emma said.

Julian hadn't been expecting that. Her parents had fought—died—in the war. If they hadn't been part of the Clave, then for what good had that been? "Why?"

Emma shrugged. Drusilla ducked out of the room from behind her. Livvy came racing down the hall immediately afterward, as if she had some kind of sixth sense. Tiberius almost tripped over the rug when he saw that Julian and Emma were having an actual conversation. Julian could tell that this news wasn't far from reaching his mother.

"My parents… they aren't—well, they weren't—really like that. The liked to call themselves deviants." She paused. "They used to tell me stories about the times before the Accords… before Shadowhunters. They said that demons and angel were once cooperative creatures."

Julian's eyes darted around. He could only imagine what his mother and father would think if they heard what Emma was saying. It would give them substance to their theory that she was, in some way, not normal.

"Do _you_ believe that?" Julian asked in a low voice.

"I don't know. I was never taught to believe anything else. It seems pretty absurd, now that I've seen what demons can do."

"You got that right," agreed Julian. "Listen, Emma, you can't let my parents hear you talking about this. Okay, like ever. They don't really know if they can trust you yet and—"

"Hear you talking about what?" Arthur Blackthorn appeared at the foot of the stairs, his deep, booming voice carrying up to them. He leaned on the banister. Emma looked from him and back to Julian very fast. She never looked at Julian's father for more than a second, as if he was blinding and hurt her eyes.

"Uh… Emma was just telling me about her pastimes," Jules lied. "Apparently she likes breaking china for fun. There won't be any of that around here, will there, Dad?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes, and Julian wasn't totally sure that he'd convinced him of Emma's ordinariness. But then he smiled and said, "Well, I'm glad you two are talking."

"Yep." Julian made a sweeping motion with his hand. "And you can go now."

"Alright, alright," his father said, raising his hands in surrender and sending a wink in Julian direction.

He rolled his eyes. "Anyway…" He trailed off when he saw the sadness in Emma's eyes. He wanted to ask her what was wrong.

But he didn't have to. Girls were so vocal with their feelings. "Your dad reminds me a lot of my own," she said, blinking, clearing away tears.

"Well, you'll begin to see the differences soon. My dad is nosy, bossy, and overprotective." He didn't know what else to say. "About the demons—"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," Emma interrupted. "Later. Tell me about training."

"It starts Tuesday," Julian told her.

"Is that all I need to know?"

"Meet me in the library tomorrow after dinner and I'll tell you more."

Emma twisted her hair between her fingers, weaving the golden strands in and out. "Okay." She turned back to her room, taking a step forward. There was an indent in the carpet where one of her feet had been, and Julian realized how long they had been standing here.

"I was serious about my parents." Emma stalled her progress into her room. "They might want to get rid of you."

Emma didn't look back. "Thanks." She closed the door.

Julian went back into his own room. His conversation with Emma left him wondering more about her than before. She couldn't leave yet. Not until he unraveled all of her secrets—and it seemed like she had years worth.

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**Yeah. That's it. I wanted to make it longer, but I've been writing for a really long time. Now I have to go online and order a new flat iron because mine broke :( Anyway, REVIEW, like PLEASE! It's my birthday on Monday, so birthday reviews would be so amazingly awesome! And if anyone wants to beta, just PM me or say so in a review, I'm very interested in a beta! Thanks guise!**

**-seastar**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Okay, I think it's been a while since I've updated, but oh well :) I'm doing it now. I don't really have much to say about it, other than that it's pretty much just a segue into the next future chapter. The past is so much more fun to write right now :/ Oh well. Things are going to start heating up in the future as well pretty soon. **

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own The Dark Artifices. **

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Emma ran a hand through her hair to undo the braid. It came away sticky.

"Don't do that at the table, dear," Arthur said, passing the potatoes to her. The spoon fell in the steaming white gush. Jules reached to retrieve it. A golden hair settled on the rim of the bowl.

Emma wiped her hand on her pants. "Sorry," she said, looking at the leftover demon on her jeans. It was almost as gross-looking as last week's meatloaf, which was coming her way.

"This stuff wasn't even good on the first day," Tibs complained, shoving his chair back from the table. Emma knew where he was headed- straight to the fridge to get the takeout that Mark had left here the previous night.

His mother stopped him, much the Emma's dismay. "We're having a family dinner, son," she said, "if you wanted to eat something different, maybe you should have cooked it."

"I wanted take-out." Tibs sank back in his chair.

"Lucky thing," Livvy remarked, a gleam in her eye, "because anything Tibs cooked would have been even less edible than this meatloaf."

Everyone laughed except Penelope, but in Emma's opinion, anyone who made meatloaf- and served it again after refrigerating it for four days- was opening himself up for criticism. But cooking for eight people was a hefty task; if she were Penelope, the family would be defaulting on leftovers a lot more.

Jules stabbed at the brown hunk of meat on his plate. Then he sliced it with his fork and took a bite. "It's not actually that bad, if you can get past the texture."

"Well, I can't," said Livvy, pushing her plate away, meatloaf untouched.

"It looks like poo!" Ariadne squealed. Emma reached over and tickled her chin. Ari's cheeks dimpled.

"Tastes like poo, too," Silla said, making a face.

"It makes me need to take a poo," Octavian said, licking his plate clean. The kid ate anything- including four-day-old leftovers. He was always the one cleaning out whatever was left in the fridge. He didn't mind though. For a six-year-old, Emma thought, Tavvy had a huge appetite.

Arthur had a stern look on his face. "None of that," he insisted. "Just enjoy your mother's cooking." Every blanched at him. It was a known fact in the Blackthorn house: mom's cooking was not enjoyed.

"Or," Arthur added, "if you can't do that, enjoy each other's company."

"I nominate Emma to cook tomorrow night," Jules said, grinning at Emma.

She rolled her eyes. She could only cook one meal—spaghetti—and that was about as easy as it could get.

"How 'bout it, Em?" Arthur asked.

"Maybe I could get Margarita in the kitchen," Emma replied, "she could tell me how to make California rolls. You like sushi, right A?" she asked, using her pet name for Arthur. Arthur was A and Penelope was, quite obviously, P. Truthfully, she called them that mostly because she knew she could never feel comfortable calling them Mom and Dad. Not when her parents could still be out there somewhere, fighting their way back to her.

"Where are Margarita and Christina?" Livvy asked. Emma looked around the table: she had noticed the absence of the pair's quick, accented voices, and their comments from the peanut gallery. Christina was always teasing and joking, and when you got around Margarita, it was easy to see where she got it from. She had passed her sharp wit, and her even sharper tongue, down to her daughter.

"They had an appointment with Mr. Gregoire," Penelope answered.

"Doesn't he charge like three hundred bucks a pop?" Julian asked.

"I heard his house smells like demon," Tibs added. So far as Emma knew, he was the only Shadowhunter to even smell demons. He was like a blood hound; he could track with his sense of smell.

"I can't confirm either of those rumors," Penelope said, "but I do know that they went to ask him about treatments for Margarita."

"Guess things aren't as good as she's making them out to be," Emma said.

"No," Penelope agreed.

"But it can only get better from here on out, eh kids?" Arthur said cheerily.

Emma thought back to when Margarita's eyes had first started failing her. She was always in the kitchen, trying new recipes and improving old ones. One day, when she'd been chopping up the vegetables for her famous spring rolls, Margarita hadn't been far from chopping a finger off.

Ever since then, she'd been denying that anything was wrong. Just last week Christina had convinced her to go to Mr. Gregoire, Los Angeles's high warlock.

"I guess we know why we're having soggy meatloaf and overcooked veggies for dinner, then," Silla commented. "I asked Margarita to make risotto tonight."

"She's not a cook, dear," Arthur told his daughter, "and I don't like it when you kids place orders with her."

"She doesn't mind, Dad," Julian said, "I think she likes it."

"Yes, I'm sure she loves being treated like an underpaid waiter." Arthur tapped his fork on his plate and turned his gaze on Emma. "What were you up to earlier this evening?"

Emma looked to Julian. He was wearing his best poker face. Not helping. _Tibs_? she asked silently. He was busy trying to scoot away without being noticed. Livvy shook her head slightly. It was likely Arthur would shut their mission down if he got any inkling of it being even remotely dangerous- which it was.

"I told you, A. We went to the grocery store."

He didn't look totally convinced. "And what did you get at the grocery store?"

"Ice cream," Julian cut in smoothly. "Who wants some?"

The younger children let out a chorus of "me!"s. Mr. Blackthorn too was distracted by the prospect of the sweet treat replacing the slimy meal his wife had prepared. Emma smiled to herself. Arthur would probably never get the hang of having teenagers. He had three more tries, though. Mark, Helen, she, Julian, Livvy, and Tibs had gotten lucky; he was clueless, as was Penelope, but this was her first time around, so it was excusable.

"By the way, Em, I need to talk to you about the ice cream." Julian smiled tightly as if to say _catch my drift?_

Emma shrugged. "Alright," she said, not sure what there was to talk about. "Like now or...?"

"Later. I'll catch you before bed." Somehow, that set Emma's teeth on edge. Livvy and Tibs had knowing looks on their faces. She was the last to know. As usual.

Before she could question him further, Jules rose to retrieve the ice cream from the freezer.

"Hurry up!" Emma shouted at whoever was behind the bathroom door showering. On the second floor of the Institute, which Emma, Julian, Tibs, and Silla shared, there was a bathroom in every bedroom, but only one communal shower, which as far as Emma was concerned meant first come first serve. She was normally the first in, but tonight, someone had had the audacity to jump in front of her. "Get out!"

She heard the water shut off and the sound of water flowing down the drain. Finally. She'd been standing there for at least five minutes. The door opened.

And Emma's heart jerked inside of her chest. Julian stood before her, wrapped in a towel, his hair dripping wet and his body gleaming with droplets of water.

"Oh," she stuttered, "sorry, Jules," thought you were Tibs." She couldn't have said why he was having this effect on her; she'd seen him like this a hundred times before. Her feelings were... complicated. All she could do was pray that her blush held off until she was alone.

"Okay," was all Julian said in acknowledgment to her apology. "Can we talk?"

Emma's eyes almost popped out of their sockets. No, they could not talk, not now, not while he was half naked in the hall.

"I need to shower," she said, stepping past him, feeling the heat creep into her neck. "I have demon in my hair."

"I saw that during dinner." Jules laughed. "Okay, whenever you're done."

"Yeah." Emma shut the door.

Someone knocked on Emma's door and rattled the knob. She pulled shirt on and, unsurprisingly, found Julian standing on the opposite side of the threshold.

"Can I come in?" he asked, sticking his head in. Emma hadn't realized the way she had wedged herself between the doorway and Julian until she nodded and moved.

"I just wanted to talk to you- about tonight." He sat down on the bed, patting the mattress beside him. His hair was still wet; he grabbed Emma's towel and tousled it, droplets flying and scattering lamplight. Emma flicked on the main fixture and stood by the switch for a moment.

"I know you already talked to Livvy and Tibs," she said. "Why?"

Jules sighed. "Come. Sit." Emma obliged this time. "When we went out tonight, I didn't realize what you were after."

Emma said nothing.

"We talked about it and... I don't think it's a good idea for you to pursue this."

She blanched at him. "So, you're saying you don't want me to pursue my parents? Because I know for sure that they would pursue me if I had been missing for six years!"

Julian put his hand on her exposed leg. Emma jerked away. She was already uncomfortable in her short shorts and tank top. Now she was angry and she didn't need Julian's reassurance.

He drew back. "I know, and I understand. If you went missing, I'd never stop looking. But Em... They're not coming back. There's nothing to look for."

"There is," Emma said matter-of-factly, "there was never any proof that they died. No bodies. No nothing."

Julian sighed. "There's no proof that they lived either. I- we just don't want you to get your hopes up-"

"They've been missing for years, Jules. My hopes haven't been high. I just want some closure, do I not deserve that? How could I out the rest of my life not knowing?"

"Is that all you want?" He massaged his temples with his long painter's fingers. He hadn't been painting lately, Emma noted against her own will. Everything about Julian was distracting, even the way he breathed and blinked, and the irregularly audible sound of his heartbeat. It was beating out an off-tempo, yet steady tattoo.

"Yes," Emma replied finally, though she could think of at least a dozen other things she wanted. She wanted Julian to say he'd help her; she wanted him to get off her bed, and she wanted her heart to stop drumming like a marching band in her chest; she wanted to remove that dam inside of her that had been holding back any hope of finding her parents, keeping that particularly tide at bay; she wanted to be able to snap her fingers and hold all that she wanted in her hands; she wanted to know if Julian would be one of the things cupped in her palms.

"And if you they are... Dead?"

"Oh, stop with the {ifs} Jules. If they're dead... Well, at least I'll know. So, will you help me?"

Julian stared off into a corner of the room before answering. He seemed so very distant at that moment. A million miles away, weighing all that could possibly go wrong, as was his nature. He failed to see the things that could go right.

"Alright."

Emma's face broke out in a grin.

"Don't get too excited," Jules warned. We'll talk about this in morning,"

"Goodnight," she said sprawling out on the bed when he got up, her body filling the space that his had been occupying. She felt the warmth that remained on the sheets.

"Goodnight." Jules closed the door.

Emma pulled the sheets around her body, not bothering a pillow or the lights, and closed her eyes.

_The demon from earlier reared its ugly head up through the floor. Somehow, she had ended up in Julian's room. The rest of the demon's body tried to slither up through the hole; luckily, it was too but to fit._

_"Emma Carstairs," it warned in a raspy voice. "If you want to find your parents, beware of the Seven Devils."_

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**That's it... for now. I can't think of the rest of the dream right now, so I'll try to explain it later on. Thanks for reading, and REVIEW please! I wanted to do shoutouts but I can't right now, so next chapter if I remember! Thanks to everyone who reviewed the previous chapters!**

**-seastar**


	5. Author Note

**Okay guys... I have decided to continue this story! *Everybody jumps up and down and blows little party blower things, fireworks ignite, etc.***

**I don't know if everyone (or anyone) looks on Cassandra Clare's Tumblr (I do because I'm on Tumblr all the time. But then, I write fanfiction, so that's pretty much given :P) and saw the snippet from CoHF that she posted with little Jules being asked to take up the Mortal Sword and Emma hopping up on stage with him. Too cute! Go check it out. There's a lot more information to go off now, also, like the Blackthorn's mother died in the Mortal War (yeah, crap). So I'll have to revise and I might have to start over. But it's all good, because I _am _going to do it when I have time, depending upon whether or not that ever happens. But I just wanted to let everyone know!**

**Thanks guys :)**

**-seastar**


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